


R.I.P OFF

by pukeytyler (cherryblur)



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Murder, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 15:46:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18552838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryblur/pseuds/pukeytyler
Summary: “Zoloft,” He mumbles. “Xanax.”Tyler shakes his head. “There’s more.”





	R.I.P OFF

**Author's Note:**

> please stay safe

It’s like a contest.  
Whoever does it first gets the benefit of winning.  
The trophy of death. 

Tyler tries so many times. He’s the eager one, the competitive one.  
Josh isn’t even fully sure he’s depressed or suicidal. 

He watches him pop pills like candy, whatever they may be.  
Always just in time for him to call the ambulance.  
“You’re cheating,” He wants to say when Tyler’s getting his stomach pumped for the third time this month. 

“It’s not fair,” He tries to reason when Tyler pushes pills onto him. Forcing him to try.  
“That’s not how it works.” 

Someone mumbles about a psychiatric hospital for the two and Josh doesn’t feel too good for the rest of the show.  
He’s not going to the loony house. 

They sit in sticky tension in the green room tonight.  
How could he be fucked up for his hometown?

“You’re just a pussy,” Tyler tells him. He’s way too high to be walking out onstage and Josh tells him that.  
“You’re just scared, Josh. You always have been.”

Josh sits cross-legged on the couch and hopes his eye makeup doesn’t smear.  
“I’m scared for you,” He says. He’s not going to overdose. He’s too strong for that.  
How could he when Tyler’s beating him to it? 

“You’re playing this like it’s a game.” His eyes follow pacing red socks and twitchy painted hands.  
“Suicide isn’t a game, Tyler.” 

Tyler shakes his head. “No, but it sure is fun, isn’t it?” He swallows thickly. “To..tip the scales. Huh, Josh?” 

Josh doesn’t say anything. 

“You just,” He cracks his knuckles and blinks like the room is spinning. “You just don’t understand how good it feels.” 

Josh stares at the skin-colored bandages hidden under the brunette’s paint.  
“You’re a coward.” 

Tyler turns. 

“If you want to die so bad,” Josh breathes slow.  
“Then do it.” 

He’s faking. Faking with short little overdoses and thick cuts running horizontally across his wrists.  
Bathtubs full of hairdryers and nooses made of hotel room sheets.

He’s faking it all. 

“You’re the scared one,” Josh mumbles. They go on in ten minutes. 

“You ever try it?” Tyler asks, unblinking. 

Josh nods. 

Then brunette squints. “Show me.”

“High school.” He shows vertical scars slicing up his forearms. “In the bathtub.” 

Tyler laughs in his face.  
“Who found you?” 

There’s a pause.  
“My sister.” 

“Ashley?” He scoffs. “Tha’sucks.” 

“She’s fine now.” 

Tyler mutters out, “Doubt it.”  
The lights flicker above his head. 

Josh isn’t going to cry. “I wanted to protect you, man. For a while. But I think you’re too addicted to be saved.” 

“To pills?” Tyler picks at his bandages.

“To death.” 

They stare in a silent war of who will look away first and the quiet knock on the green room door signals the match point.

“Death,” Tyler echoes when he steps out.  
“That’s a new one.” 

He trips onstage and misses almost all his notes. 

Josh can’t help but laugh. 

•

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Hi,” Josh says. “I need to report a suicide.” 

“Okay, sir, can you tell me your location?” 

“Yeah.” He swallows. “I’m at the Hilton Inn.”

“What room?”

“435.”

“Okay,” The operator hums on the other line. “Can you tell me the name, description, anything you see, sir?” 

“Tyler Joseph,” He says, really slow. “I didn’t think he’d really do it, but y’know? Maybe he’s really proven me wrong this time.”

“Can you give me your name, sir?” 

“I’m afraid I can’t,” Josh laughs. “That might give it away.” 

He presses the _end call_ button with the pad of his thumb and sticks his phone in his pocket. The ceiling fan above him spins and creates gentle breezes over his burning body. 

“I’m sorry I had to do this,” He mumbles to Tyler.  
“I feel like you’re a lot safer, now.” He starts for the door with a heavy heart. 

“If it wasn’t me, it would’ve been you,” He says, almost to himself, like he’s trying to reassure himself that it’s okay. He did a good deed.

Tyler’s gaping dead body still twitches in the aftermath of his gunshot wounds and gives a hearty goodbye in the form of a bursting blood bubble. 

Josh blows him a kiss.


End file.
